


A Worthy Adversary

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Danger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Future Fic, Plot, Robert Patrick Modell - Freeform, Romance, SHIELD has a PR problem, Skoulson RomFest 2k15, Skye and Coulson Investigate, Skye has a complex relationship with her powers, Skye is Mulder because of course she is, The X Files - Freeform, The X Files mash up, Unresolved Sexual Tension, skoulsonfest2k15, yep a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye versus Robert Patrick Modell.</p>
<p>Written  for the Skoulson RomFest 2k15 - Prompt: The X Files episode mash up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This would make a lot more sense if you've watched The X Files episode it's based on ("Pusher") but hopefully it can still be followed without having seen it. Skye is Mulder and Coulson is Scully and Pusher is Pusher.

" _How can SHIELD declare they can protect us when they can't even protect their own men – from their own men_?"

Coulson turns the tv feed off.

He doesn't say what he's thinking but Skye knows.

 _Talbot_.

It's been a great month for the General –sorry, Brigadier General– since SHIELD went public again. He got to complain about allocation of government funds to SHIELD, which was just a malicious rumor poor simple Talbot bought, he got to call Coulson corrupt, and he got to call Skye _a menace_. She didn't think her powers being common public knowledge was going to be a picnic, but when the moment came she admits she wasn't prepared for the way she could perfectly see the word _freak_ forming in Talbot's mind. She wonders in how many more's.

And now this. This actual freak killing innocent people, and some of their own. SHIELD needs a win soon, and being unable to track down a guy who can make you do whatever he wants with his mind is the opposite of that. Because that's the popular theory, that's what this Pusher guy seems to do.

"And we're sure this is a gifted individual?" May asks.

Coulson turns to her. "One of SHIELD's senior agents crashed his car and killed a fellow agent to assist this guy's escape. But if you have another explanation..." 

May shrugs.

And well, he calls himself Pusher. Skye is going to go with super-psycho here.

"Does this happen a lot?" Skye asks. Coulson doesn't understand the question. "Gifted individuals using their powers like this. For hire?"

It had taken her months to keep enough control to avoid hurting those around her – the idea that people like her choose to voluntarily harm others with their abilities feels repulsive. She's not naive, of course she knew this kind of thing goes on all the time, but she can't help it, her gut reaction is despair.

"Sometimes," Coulson admits. "Some people want power, fame, others... just profit."

"Which is why it's a good idea that SHIELD keeps an eye on them," she says, bitterly.

"I believe we don't honor that practice anymore," he says, giving Skye a meaningful stare.

Yeah, SHIELD doesn't do the Index thing anymore. Coulson saw more potential risks with it than benefits. There was something Hydra-ish about keeping a list of people who are "different". Skye agreed, vehemently, specially now that she was one of those people. She doesn't want to be in any list. But today she is seeing the benefits as well.

"The description didn't get any matches," May tells them. "His prints are not in the system. The only thing we got is his confession."

"That's the creepy part," Skye says, looking at the file. "These people are supposed to have killed themselves. Have you seen anything like that?"

"We've seen some individuals who excelled at suggestion in the past," May replies, and Coulson throws her a worried look. Skye looks away, she guesses this particular case must be tough on May. "But nothing like this."

"We need every fiber of that case analyze again, every shred of evidence re-examined," Coulson tells her.

May nods and takes the tablet from his hands. "I'll put Hunter and Morse on it."

She marches out of the office.

"What?" Skye asks, noticing the look Coulson is giving her as soon as they are alone.

"Everyone would understand if you wanted to back off this one."

"Why? Because he's gifted?" He nods. "I was the one eager to start the Welcome Wagon again. Well, now I have the chance to meet some kindred spirit."

"I doubt you and this Pusher have much in common."

" _Obviously_ ," she says. "But no, I want to stick with it. Besides... you think you have any chance of catching this guy without my help? Keep dreaming, Director. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Skye touches the back of her neck, pacing across the office.

"So what now?" she asks.

Coulson gestures towards the wall screen, where the image of Talbot and his lack of faith in SHIELD containing this menace stood just some minutes ago. Coulson gives her an apologetic look, one corner of his mouth curling upwards in a resigned half-smile.

"You are not going to like it?" he offers.

"More damage control?"

"Yep."

 

 

+

 

 

The interview didn't nothing to soothe the situation.

It was bad. 

Even for Coulson's standards it was bad.

He's driving them back to the base, the heat from the tv studio lights have made him uncomfortably sweaty, itchy, and Skye is in the passenger seat scrubbing off the make-up she put on her, using the rear-view mirror. They must make such a picture.

"How do you manage to seem so arrogant on tv?" Skye asks when they hit the quiet, slow roads leading up to the Playground.

He blinks at her. "Did I seem arrogant?"

"Conceited, that's the word. And this is not the first time"

He's a bit irked by her tone.

" _You_ seem... aloof."

"What?"

No, Skye is not going to make tv personality of the year, either. It was obvious for everyone seeing the interview she thought the whole thing was superflous and she'd rather be doing anything but that. He wonders if Skye's life is going to be like this from now on, endless public appearences to justify her whole existence, to reassure the general population that she poses no threat to them. She's not Tony Stark, she shouldn't have to be exposed to this kind of scrutiny – but Skye is bothered yet somehow resigned to that, like she accepts it as some sort of subtle punishment for the damages she provoked in San Juan.

"You looked like you were somewhere else," he tells her.

"I _was_ somewhere else," she remarks. Coulson smiles at her. "It's just so silly. Why do we have to go on record saying I'm not going to jumpstart an earthquake that destroys Washington? I haven't so far, right? Have a little faith, guys. And also why do they have _you_ say it – like you're my babysitter?"

"This whole _Pusher_ thing has everybody on edge about superpowered individuals," he says. He doesn't say how it never goes away, the suspicions. People love Hulk when he is saving New York, but they always resent Bruce Banner for the permanent possibility of change he harbors inside. He hopes Skye doesn't expect the population to love her unconditionally, not matter what she does. There will always be conditions. "SHIELD does not have the public's trust just yet. Anything that might help bring some reassurance is a win."

"No, I get the politics, it's just really annoying. I don't like being on tv. If they want reassurance they should bring in Thor. He's more photogenic."

"I'll try to get him in for the next interview," he teases and Skye cocks her head to one side, a don't-mess-with-me look. "How's the investigation coming along?"

Skye becomes more animated at the question. "Actually, I have an idea about that. Do you remember the message Pusher left for us?"

"The _ronin_ thing." He shudders. This guy believes himself some kind of warrior. Coulson doesn't like the vibe of this all, has a gut feeling something wrong is about to go down. Pure evil is one thing, and he doesn't like that either, but delusional individuals are unpredictable. Unpredictable has never gone well for him.

"He said he was a contract killer. He's also a weeabo," Skye says. Coulson doesn't quite know what that means but he gets the general gist. "There can't be that much of an overlap. I'm pretty sure if you give me some time, I can figure out what kind of message boards that guys visits. He has to find work somewhere, right?"

"Are we going to pose as potential customers?"

"You've watched too many movies, Director," Skye tells him.

"Then what's the plan?"

"No, no, I'm going to pose as a potential costumer, but you've still have watched too many movies."

Coulson presses his lips together as they drive into the garage, trying to look stern.

 

 

+

 

 

Having the Director of SHIELD fall asleep on her bed is not a usual occurrence.

At least it can't be said Skye did it on purpose.

It just – kind of happened.

One moment he was helping her lure Pusher into a private chat and the next Skye turned her head and he was sprawled over her covers, hugging her pillow.

She smiles at the surprising picture. He looks so different like this, face all relaxed, brow uncreased. She wonders if he is getting enough sleep lately. He's overstressed, they all are, but the Director more than anyone. The whole PR campaign to convince the world SHIELD are not just legit but trustworthy has been a terrible toll on Coulson. Who would have thought being terrorists and outlaws was way easier, or at least less work? Skye fears things have been worse on her account, too; if Coulson hadn't had to defend the inclusion of a potentially dangerous gifted in his team the workload would have been a lot lighter.

It feels almost like a crime to wake him up. But she knows he would want to be awake for it, and she actually wants his input on this. She almost wants to touch his face, but in the end she wraps her hand around his forearm and shakes him gently. He stirs, letting out a curious moan in the process.

"I think you were drooling on my pillow," she says.

"Sorry."

"You didn't have to keep me company."

The truth is she likes that he did. Coulson wasn't of much use while she was scouring message boards and chatrooms and trying to crack codes – she asked him for the occassional psychological insight but she's sure she'd have eventually gotten there on her own. He sat on her bed and reviewed paperwork while waiting for Skye to smoke Pusher out. The company was unnecessary but really lovely. Skye enjoyed the easiness of it, how they could just work in silence together, doing their own thing. They usually can, but this is the first time they've done so in her room, with Coulson comfortably parked in her bed, surrounded by her books, her clothes, the silly souvenirs she has gone back to collecting.

"It's okay," Coulson says, his voice more awake now. She likes how he narrows his eyes, the crinkle around them, as he tries to focus on what's before him, Skye, the computer screen. "I wanted to be here when you made contact."

"Yeah, about that..."

"What?"

"I'm not sure if I smoked him out or he smoked me out," she says, pointing at her laptop.

Coulson comes closer, takes the little stool she has in her room and takes a seat besides her.

Two lines in the chat window.

[02:05] **uso:** Is this agent skye  
[02:05] **uso:** ?

"So he can be bothered to capitalize _Is_ but not Skye? He's a jackass."

Coulson's brow, so tranquil in sleep, is now furrowed with worry. "Can we know where he's writing this from?"

"We're not the NSA," she tells him. "But I'm trying. I think his knowledge of CS is practical but incomplete. I'm running some exploits on this. The lab guys are seeing this too. We'll have to pay a fortune in overtime."

She types away under Coulson's gaze.

[02:07] **valdivia:** afraid i haven't had the "pleasure".

"What does your codename mean?" Coulson asks.

"Codename? _Handle_ , Coulson, handle."

[02:07] **valdivia:** or should i keep calling you Pusher?  
[02:08] **valdivia:** by the way. cool trick. can you teach me?

"The greatest earthquake recorded in history happened in Valdivia, Chile," Coulson says, realizing.

"Cookie for you, but can we focus?"

"Skye..."

She really likes that Coulson is such a sensitive guy but it makes developing a dark sense of humor really difficult. 

[02:09] **uso:** I've been studying you, Agent skye.

"Now he's just doing it on purpose."

[02:09] **valdivia:** so flattering. Why did you kill all those shield agents

"That's some appalling spelling etiquette," Coulson comments.

"I'm trying to catch a killer here, not write _In search of lost time_."

[02:09] **uso:** I really didn't want to go to jail.  
[02:10] **uso:** A real warrior chooses his own end.  
[02:10] **uso:** He doesn't let it choose him.

Skye watches Coulson's gaze change, this is good, this guy is telling them something, letting something slip, Coulson's profiler instincts getting to work.

[02:10] **valdivia:** even if that means killing innocent people? Doesn't sound like a "real" warrior to me.  
[02:11] **uso:** Innocent  
[02:11] **uso:** ???

Calm down with the question marks, dude. She throws a look at Coulson, he's half gritting his teeth, obviously upset at the suggestion that those SHIELD agents somehow deserved their fates. Great poker face, boss, she thinks, but then again it's just Coulson and her inside her room, he doesn't have to keep himself in check.

[02:11] **valdivia:** some people are more inocent than others

There's no reply for a while.

"You think he's gone?" Coulson asks.

She points at the tracking window on the screen of her other laptop.

"No, he's still here."

[02:13] **uso:** I saw you on tv the other day.  
[02:13] **valdivia:** ...?  
[02:13] **uso:** You don't look like a threat to the nation. That's what they write about you.

"Don't get into that game," Coulson reminds her, though he doesn't need to. She spends enough time worrying about that status, she doesn't need a murderer to make her aware of the situation. "He's just trying to rile you up."

"I know," she says, gently because she appreciates that he's concerned about her. All these months Coulson's been navigating the difficult balance between being careful with her new situation and not making her feel like he thinks she's about to break. He does it well.

[02:14] **valdivia:** i saw your portrait. You do look exactly like the psycho you are.  
[02:14] **uso:** I thought it was a good interview. You and your boss seem awfully close.

She and Coulson exchange a look. She looks away first.

[02:14] **valdivia:** ok what do you want  
[02:14] **uso:** A Worthy adversary.

"What does that mean?" she asks Coulson. "Does that mean me? What does that mean?"

"I don't know."

She decides to assume, decides to try and taunt him in return.

[02:15] **valdivia:** how can i prove my worth if i don't even know who you are  
[02:15] **uso:** You want a name? That's easy. Robert Patrick Modell.  
[02:15] [uso has quit #americanronin]

She makes a frustrated noise at the abrupt departure.

Coulson looks at her. "Any luck?"

Skye bites her lip. Nothing on her end. She opens the comms to the tech lab.

"Agent Deshpande, Pearce?" she calls.

Coulson just looks at her expression as her assistants tell her that the killer has evaded detection. He drops his gaze.

"Damnit," she says under her breath, and immediately reminds herself to keep rage under control. Rage's no good. She has to be on the lookout.

Coulson gazes up at her, his fingers laced together, frustration clearly drawn on his muscles as well.

"We have a name thanks to you," he tells her. "We can work with that."

"Yeah..." She leans back on the chair. "If he can hide his footsteps like this... He might have erased trace of his identity as well."

Or at least anything useful, if he was willing to volunteer his name just like that. But Coulson fixes her a smirk.

"He might have tried," he says. "But I'm confident my team's better."

Skye finds herself smiling back, finds herself getting optimistic without reason. How is she supposed to react? Coulson is doing the Coulson thing again.

"You want to resume your nap on my bed?" she asks, watching him squirm just a tiny bit. She looks at him more seriously now. "It was really a pity that I had to wake you. You looked like you needed the rest."

He throws a look back at the bed. For a moment Skye feels like he is about to take her up on her offer and go back to sleep there. For a moment she feels like he wants to.

"I don't think there's going to be much rest for me tonight," he says, standing up and grabbing his jacket from the back of Skye's chair. "But thanks."

"Anytime," she says, without thinking. Coulson gives him a questioning look. "No, obviously _not_. I didn't mean it like that. I don't know what I'm –"

"Good night, Skye," he says, and he is a bit soft about it. "We'll figure out who this guy is. Tomorrow."

"Yeah."

He leaves.

Skye turns once more to the computer screen, stares at the chat log.

No, she doesn't think there's going to be much rest for her tonight either.


	2. Chapter 2

Skye sits a bit apart, watching as her best subordinate clutches one hand with the other, eyes low, trying to explain how she came to brutally assault her lab partner with a fire extinguisher.

"And you have no idea why you attacked Agent Pearce?" Coulson asks gently.

The poor girl looks more confused than they are and Skye feels the gnaw of responsibility.These are her guys, the Geek Squad, these are her assistants, she can't help but thinking it's her fault in a way. At least they should have been able to catch him already.

And there's the fact that Modell hurt these people to have access to SHIELD's mainframe, and the only file he looked at was Skye's. She doesn't want to think about that.

"I don't know," Lena says. "We work together, he's my friend. There's no reason –"

"It's okay," Coulson says. "Take your time."

The girl draws a breath and looks embarrassed, as if she thought she was overextending her privileges by just breathing. Skye likes her, she feels reflected in her guardedness about the world, and there's a reason why she promoted her so fast.

"It was what this guy said. He – talked me into it."

"Modell? What did he say?" Skye asks.

"He said that – he convinced me that Matt, that Agent Pearce was Hydra."

She and Coulson exchange a look.

"It sounds so absurd now, thinking about it, how could I ever..." the girl goes on. Then she looks up at Coulson. "And I helped him. He said he needed to know some things. I am so sorry, sir. So terribly sorry."

Skye can understand her anxiety. This is the longest she's talked to the Director. But she should know Coulson would never blame or punish her for this.

"Don't be," he tells her with a sympathetic smile. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was mine," Skye says, getting her things and walking out.

Coulson dismisses the junior agents around and follows Skye into the hallway.

"You can't really be thinking that," he says when he catches up with her.

"That I'm to blame? Of course I am. This wouldn't have happened if Modell wasn't so damn interested in me."

"Can you think of a reason why he'd want your file?" Coulson asks, and Skye can see the wheels turning behind those eyes. It's a bit reassuring.

She shrugs. "No idea. He's a freak. Maybe he likes other freaks."

"Skye."

She shrugs again.

This time he doesn't follow her.

 

 

+

 

 

"Like we told Coulson, we think it's the voice. If he can control people with his voice..."

"That's our working theory," Simmons adds.

"We still have the specs for Lorelei's collar, maybe there's something there that could help."

"But that only worked on men," Skye points out, a bit troubled about dragging up a particularly distasteful ordeal for the whole team. "I don't think it's the same method."

"We're just..." Fitz says.

"Yeah, I know."

She was just hoping that a scientific explanation for how this guy manages to put the whammy on people would help stop him.

"But we have to figure out an edge, guys," she tells them. "He killed another man today. Every victim – it's _on us_."

FitzSimmons look at each other, deflated. 

Skye didn't mean to sound so harsh but she stands by it. It's SHIELD's responsibility. They have decided to live in the world so they have to take care of it.

"Maybe... noise-cancelling ear... ear-things," Fitz offers.

"I don't think that's very practical for a mission," Skye tells him. "Field agents kind of need that sense to be able to fight, and we don't know what other skills Modell has."

But, she thinks, this is good, get the ball rolling, this is progress, and at least Fitz's plan didn't involve a monkey.

 

 

 

+

 

 

_"...meanwhile SHIELD protects people like him. They even have one in their payroll. How can we be sure that woman doesn't pose a threat while the organization holds no accountability."_

"You should stop listening to that crap," Bobbi says.

Coulson mutes the screen but doesn't turn the thing off.

"No accountability? We're completely in the open, I made sure of that," he sinks, tired, in his chair. "Complete transparency. I'm even up to date with my taxes. What do they want me to do?"

"They want you to lock Skye up," Bobbi tells him, flatly. "Or hand her over so _they_ can lock her up. Tag her, watch her every movement."

"This is a weird pep talk."

Bobbi smiles. She and Coulson have had their ups and downs this year but they are in a good place now – he trusts her and she is a good sounding board.

"You wouldn't use one of your agents as PR," she says. "And you would never let anyone imply there's something wrong or risky about Skye."

"I hope everyone is clear on that."

"They are now." Coulson knows what he means. Ten years ago he might have made a different call. If he had met Skye ten years ago he might have been on board with the idea of containing her by any means. But, more realistically, if he had met Skye ten years ago he would have been exactly where he is now, but seven years earlier. Bobbi adds: "The point is: if we catch Modell no one is going to care about that. Skye will be a hero."

"People are that simple, uh?"

"In my experience they are, sir. So, catch the bad guy, fix this. Maybe you won't have to do another interview for a while. You're not very good at them."

"I come off as arrogant?" Coulson asks her.

"Now that you mention it, yes, that's it."

 

 

+

 

 

"Mack," she says, looking up from her laptop. "Did you want something?"

"No, no. Didn't mean to distract you. I just wanted to ask if you had heard anything else from the injured agent? And from Lena?"

"They're fine. I was thinking about swinging by the hospital this afternoon to see Agent Pearce. Agent Deshpande... She's – understandably shaken."

"Yeah."

"Were you friends?" Skye asks, curious about this sudden interest.

Mack smiles sweetly.

"I don't think I ever talked to her," he admits. Skye nods. "It's just that... I get what it is like, being forced to do something you don't want to. Hurting your teammates against your will. It's like suddenly you see yourself across the room, doing all those things."

She looks at those kind eyes of his, now troubled, and forever darkened with the shadow of what happened in Puerto Rico. Everybody had a hard time recovering from that – Skye specially – but Mack was one of the hardest hit. He'd been a bit withdrawn after that but at the same time he was one of the few who wasn't afraid of Skye after her change, and they have become pretty good friends, since.

"Yeah," she agrees. Even though it wasn't the same thing – she hadn't been controlled like Mack when he attacked the team, or Coulson when he threw her inside a cell – she also knows what it was like to hurt her friends thanks to forces beyond her control. "It pretty much sucks."

Mack gives her another little sad smile.

"Well. Let me know if you need any help with your guys."

 

 

+

 

 

He goes down to the shooting range to give her the file on Modell. She was supposed to come up, it was her exploit what allowed them to unearth all those records, but she looks deeply focused on the training. He watches her for a moment, impressed with both stance and results, and only approaches when she stops to check the targets.

"That's great accuracy," Coulson comments.

"I'm that good," she says, a bit despondently.

"I'm not joking. Most SHIELD agents take at least five years to get to that level. Don't ask me how long it took me."

"Yeah, I'm Captain America."

"Okay, let's not exaggerate," Coulson says, narrowing his eyes at her.

Skye laughs, suddenly relieved of all that tension. 

"How are your profiling lessons coming along?" he asks, holding out the file as bait.

"You tell me. You're training me."

"Your decryption did the trick. Modell's file came back. Wanna guess?"

Skye puts the gun away. He watches as her fingers swiftly complete all the safety proceedings. 

"Let's do this," she says, her eyes catching light as they try to remember what he's been teaching him about building a profile. "Only child. Middle class. Good grades but not brilliant – not as brilliant as he thinks he is. Average, though he doesn't want to admit it. Obsessed with Asian culture, which I find really offensive, just for the record. Megalomaniac, narcissit, but we already knew that."

"A deep distrust of authority. Sounds familiar?" Skye frowns. "We have a complete psych evaluation now."

"From where? He tried to join the Army? Mmm, that makes sense actually."

"The army he managed to join. This comes from within SHIELD."

She steps closer to Coulson, reaching for the file in disbelief. And no, he is not thrilled about Pusher having a military background either. "He tried to join SHIELD?"

"He took the tests for Ops at the Academy. Passed the physical with average marks but the psychological test raised some red flags."

" _You think_?"

Then her gaze shifts, her focus somewhere else.

"What are you thinking?" Coulson asks.

"If this guy was able to will people into doing whatever he wants – why wouldn't he just be able to join any organization he wanted? Be rich? Do whatever he wants?"

"That's what I've been asking myself."

"Do you think that he developed this kind of ability lately?"

"It would make sense, if he really is a gifted. The murders only date a couple of years back. There's no record of any person ever being born with powers. Even you, Skye," he points out. "Something has to happen."

"Yeah. Maybe if we find out what caused it, we can figure out how to stop him."

"Exactly."

Skye looks over at the targets with the Hydra symbol right at the center.

"Hey, you wanna stay a while and see if you are on my level?" she asks Coulson.

He chuckles. It is tempting. Not just because it would mean spending more time with Skye alone – which, he has to admit, it's a great plus, specially of late, even if the ramifications of this impulse are complicated. He would also like to test his skills against someone as talented as Skye.

"I would. But I'm a bit afraid of coming up short."

"Aw. You're worried that I'll think less of you as a boss."

Coulson leans on the partition between booths.

"Maybe." That comes out a bit more sincere than he meant.

"You? Yeah, I find that hard to believe."

He crosses his arms. "Is it, really? That I value your opinion of me?"

And yes, she looks genuinely surprised and curious when she hears that.

He touches Skye's arm a moment.

"And I don't think I could ever be on your level," he tells her, and leaves the room, Skye watching after him.

 

 

+

 

 

The thing about not being outlaws anymore – the thing about abiding by some rules – is that you have to wait until some paperwork comes through. SHIELD does not have their old privileges, the government used to waive the normal course of justice for them a lot. Back when they were half-Hydra, which is ironic. The position is more tenous now. Even though they manage to get Modell's address from the records they have to wait a couple of hours for other authorities to give them the okay to pay a visit. 

"I miss the good old days of breaking and entering," Skye says and she and Coulson share a smile.

And average place in an average part of town, Skye wonders how much insight they will get out of this visit. Modell was obviously never going to be here waiting to play host.

"It looks like he hasn't been here in weeks," Coulson comments.

"Smart. He knows we were bound to close in."

Okay, so the flat screams serial killer to her, like something out _Seven_ but less obvious. Minus the journals, she hopes; she wouldn't be able to deal with Robert Patrick Modell's inner thoughts.

For some reason – maybe because he's Coulson – Coulson goes directly to the fridge. Like that's the key place where they're most likely to find a clue. Well, maybe he's right. There's only like a dozen cans inside of the fridge. Coulson picks one up and shows it to Skye.

"Mango Kiwi Tropical swirl?" Skye reads the label. "Yuck. And this guy considers us adversaries? I am _offended_."

"Protein bars everywhere."

They move together into the tiny bathroom. Bingo, she thinks, as the medicine cabinet reveals bottles of prescription drugs. Maybe this will tell them something.

"Temodal? You know what this is?"

Coulson shakes his head. "I'll call Simmons."

He does that while Skye examines the books on the living room shelf. _The Power of the Brain_ and similar crap, Modell is not a diverse reader. There's the katana on the wall, which Skye had totally predicted. A katana on the wall which Coulson gives a disapproving look at as he comes back into the living room, the pills on his hand.

"Simmons says it's a drug used to treat patients with brain tumors."

That's – okay, that's a whole new situation.

"A brain tumor? He's dying?"

"Maybe?"

"You think... You don't suppose that's what gave him his powers?"

Coulson looks surprised by the idea at first but then she can tell he accepts its plausibility. 

"I don't recall another instance of an illness awakening abilities in a subject but..."

Well, Skye thinks, she's pretty sure there hasn't been another instance of an ancient Kree weapon awakening abilities in people either, yet here she is.

They find Modell's TiVo is filled with second-rate samurai movies and news items about SHIELD's exoneration and return to the public life. Coulson grimaces upon seeing himself on the screen.

"You think he has it for SHIELD?" Skye asks him.

"I think he has it for you," he replies.

She fixes him a look, hand on her hips.

"He only looked at your file," Coulson argues. "He threatened your assistants. He taunted you about your powers. _You are_ the worthy adversary."

Skye rolls her eyes.

"Because that's exactly what I need. Another psycho obsessed with me."

 

 

+

 

 

Coulson doesn't like the prospect at all.

Then again, he doesn't like anything about this case. He is a rational being but in the past couple of days he has developed a very irrational fear around the figure of Robert Patrick Modell.

"Are you sure?" he asks Simmons.

"This kind of dosage? It's high. He's really sick."

"That's not good," he mutters.

A dying man could end up causing much more destruction.

"But sir," Simmons adds. "If he is this far gone, he should be incredibly weak by now."

"Maybe he is," Coulson says. She looks at him blankly. "He's been very close to getting caught lately, after two years of killings. SHIELD even handcuffed him and put him inside a police car. Maybe he was too weak to avoid it. All those protein bars we found in his flat. What if using his powers exhausts him even more?"

"That's a lot of ifs, sir. Ifs are not my area of expertise."

He understands that, but his own life has been a lot more science-fiction than science for a while now. They have to consider evey possibility.

"See what you can do, anyway."

 

 

+

 

 

"Is anyone still there?"

Modell's voice echoes in the lab as the medics call the time of death.

Skye is looking at the dead agent. Her only mistake was picking the phone first when Pusher decided to make contact. _Heard you went around my house, I thought I'd find out more about yours_ he had said, and then proceeded to talk the former-Level 4 analyst into a heart attack. He and Skye could only watch, powerless, as it all happened. Coulson tried to reanimate the agent while the doctors arrived but it was no use.

He stands up, defeated, while the voice at the other end of the line is asking if he has indeed killed a human being.

"Why did you do it, Modell?" Skye asks, voice hoarse with powerlessness. 

"A demostration was in order."

"A demostration?"

"The whole world has seen you in action, Agent Skye. I know what you can do. Tell me: Is it hard to control? All that power? I've read in your file you've had to train hard for months."

Coulson looks at Skye's face. He has a bad feeling about this.

"We're still tracing him," Koenig tells him, aside.

"That doesn't matter," Coulson says. "He's probably using a public phone and he'll be gone long before we get there."

Koenig shrugs, gives him a maybe-it's-worth-a-shot expression. Coulson is not sure it is.

Meanwhile Modell is still drilling away at Skye.

"I'm curious. Is you ability affected by emotion? What would happen if you were to get really, really angry?"

Coulson takes a step towards her. "Skye. He just killed an agent in this same manner. I think you should stop listening to him."

She raises one hand to stop Coulson from coming closer.

"Why are you so freaking curious about me?" she asks Modell.

"I want to know if you are a warrior, or just some pretty face on tv."

He watches Skye recoil. Hell, he watches himself recoil at that.

"You're not a warrior," Skye says. "You're just sick. Sick Bob Modell. Am I right?"

"What a great rags-to-riches story. That's what's interesting about you, Agent Skye. From what I've heard there are many people with gifts in the world. But not all of us can become the respectable face of the mighty SHIELD. Not all of us can become superheroes."

Skye grits her teeth, jaw settled in powerful anger.

"You killed a SHIELD agent to prove a point? Because you're what – _jealous_ of me? Because I've been on tv a couple of times? Is that what you want? I had to watch one of my best friends die in front of me to get these powers. Every day I wake up wondering if this is going to be the day when I finally lose control and hurt the people I love. It's not a gift. You say you want my life? You're welcome to it."

"That's good, that's the anger I was talking about. How's your self-control doing? You can feel your heart-rate spiking, don't you, Agent Skye?"

"Skye, hang up."

She fixes Coulson a hard, warning look to keep away from her. "No, we're going to trace this son of a bitch."

"Aren't you tired of keeping it together? Don't you just want to let go? Just bring the whole thing down?"

This is bad, Coulson thinks, watching the lines on Skye's forehead draw the effort she's making to keep her powers under control.

"Billy," he calls to Koenig. "Cut off the line."

"But –"

"Cut it."

Koenig does.

"What the hell are you doing?" Skye demands, crossing the room to where Coulson is. "We almost got him."

"No, Skye," he says, voice curt, harsh. "He almost _got you_."

 

 

+

 

 

She is sitting in her bunk, drawing her fingers over the pulsepoint of her wrist. Hours later and she still feels rattled by how the whole thing went down. The heartbeat still too fast. She could feel it, the way Modell's words were doing their work, the way she started losing grip on her own powers. She's pretty good at controlling them now but it took months and to feel all that hard work unravel in a moment, to go back to that place where she was terrified of hurting people – it was devastating.

She hears footsteps approaching. It doesn't take a genius to guess, what with the way she fled the murder scene, and the way their last interaction went down.

"You okay?" Coulson asks, leaning against the door.

Skye looks up at him with honest eyes.

"No?"

He comes to sit on the bed with her. Skye sort of wants him to hug her but she doesn't want to appear weak in front of him –normally she wouldn't mind Coulson seeing her like this, but this week is different, this case is different– and she wouldn't know how to ask.

"I'm sorry I was tough on you," he tells her, which, _no_ , he doesn't have to ever apologize for something like that. He was right all along. He probably saved her back there, telling Billy to cut the line.

"I almost lost it back there," she says. "I should have listened to you and hang up."

"That's what Modell does, Skye. You can't –"

"Blame myself? No, I know that. I know it's not my fault. But I realize I'm more of a risk than your average agent. Don't make that face, I know you've thought about it."

"We have to take into account certain special conditions, yes."

"I don't like that word. _Special_. It's so lonely."

It turns out she didn't have to ask after all. Coulson doesn't seem to think about it, he just hugs her. He wraps his arm around her back and pulls her against him and it happens very fast and in slow motion at the same time. Skye frowns against Coulson's chest, because though it's a very nice place and he smells very nice too, she doesn't want him to feel he has to comfort her about anything. She's not– 

She slips the lapel of his jacket between her fingers, meaning to pull him away not pull him closer, which is what actually happens.

"I'm not –"

"Weak?" Coulson finishes, talking softly, very near her ear. She can feel the warmth of his words, his mouth. "There's no one in this building who thinks that."

"No one in this room?" she asks, hopeful.

His grip on the small of her back tightens. " _Definitely_ no one in this room."


	3. Chapter 3

"So that's the plan," Skye says.

Simmons, Hunter and Coulson all look at her in apprehension. She finishes erasing the traces of her hack into the Mercy Hospital's system.

"According to their schedule Modell has to come in for a scan the day after tomorrow, that's when we'll do it."

Something tells her he'll be there.

Hunter raises his hand. "Let's say this guy can do what you say he can –"

"He can," Skye cuts him, rattled. "I saw him kill an agent in front of me. This morning Modell was spotted in a freaking golf course, and he made the police officer who caught him douse himself in gasoline and light a match."

"That's my point," Hunter says. "If he can do something like that... what's the minimun manpower we'd need to catch him?"

"There isn't one," Coulson replies quickly. "There is no number of agents that could _ensure_ his capture."

"That's why I think I should go in alone," Skye says.

"What?" Hunter and Simmons ask, Hunter a little louder.

Coulson just nods at Skye.

"Or," Hunter adds. "We could get some _sensible_ people in this conversation, like Agent May. Where's Agent May?"

"I agree with Skye on this," Coulson says.

"How's that sensible?!"

 

 

+

 

 

He watches her work the punching bag for a while.

It's been a good deterrant from the beginning. May taught her that. She's going for power more than form right now, laying pitiless punches one after the other, putting her whole weight into it. She's trying to force out whatever she finds ugly inside her like this. He's watched her do it many times. Hair up in a ponytail, her bare shoulders glisten with sweat, and she is panting from the effort. When there's a lull in her battle against herself Coulson decides to approach.

"Don't tire yourself out for tomorrow," he tells her.

"The advantages of the evolutionary leap," Skye says, undoing her hand wraps. "I have a pretty killer energy reserve these days."

Once she told him that she now felt like her body was a suit that obeyed her commands and she was just the pilot and sometimes the equipment was faulty.

"There's a great chance that, even if Modell shows up this is all a trap."

"I think there's more than a great chance," she agrees.

She's shaking a bit, some excess adrenaline still wanting to be burn off, she's agitated. Coulson rests his hand on her upper arm, over skin hot and damp.

"Don't understimate the power of a desperate man," he tells her.

She bites her cheek. "Speaking from experience?"

That was fast, he thinks, always surprised that Skye manages to read him so accurately. It doesn't have anything to do with how apt a profiler she's become.

"A sick man trying to leave some mark on this world," Coulson says. "Yes, I can understand the reasoning."

Her stance softens. Her body no longer in tension. "Is this something you've thought about?"

He lets go of her arm, moving aside and resting his hand against the punching bag, like he is considering having a go at it. He has never been the punching bag sort of guy.

"When I was carving," he explains. "And I thought I was dying. I kept wondering what kind of legacy I'd leave behind. It made me examine myself. Wonder if I had managed to make a difference in the world at all."

"And?"

"Well. The personal legacy wasn't much to talk of."

Skye frowns.

"What are you talking about? Everyone loves you."

He gives her a warm smile. Of course Skye would say that and mean it.

"Thanks. But I think you're either terribly biased or terribly misinformed."

"Well, I haven't polled but..." her face softens a bit. "Trip thought the sun shone out of your ass. It was a bit embarrassing to see even for me, and _I_ think the sun shines out of your ass."

Coulson clears his throat.

"What I mean is – I know how the mind of an sick man confronted with his own insignificance works. You have to be careful."

Skye nods. She rests her hand on the punching bag as well, considering it, her hand close to Coulson's, almost puposedly so, it seems.

"Yeah."

 

 

+

 

 

Hunter comes into her bunk, casually like he owns it, sitting on the bed and grabbing Skye's favorite cushion. God, he's like a really annoying older brother sometimes. He reaches out and takes the book Skye was studying right now.

"The Seven Virtues of the Samurai..." he reads. "Nice light reading before bed."

"One of Modell's. Know your enemy," Skye comments, trying to recover the book, but Hunter won't budge.

"So _what are_ the seven vistues of the samurai? Righteousness, courage, benevolence, respect, sincerity, honour, loyalty. It's hard being a samurai."

"I doubt Modell has a single one of those," Skye declares.

Hunter nods, then fixes her a curious gaze. "You on the other hand... If you ever worked on that _respect_ part, that is."

Skye snorts.

"You have an actual plan here, don't you," he asks. "Please tell me you're not just winging this."

"Yeah, my plan is not to let Modell get into my head."

That, basically, is her plan. Coulson's plan is to roll with her plan. Great plans.

"I know that head," Hunter says. "It's already pretty well-stocked with iconvenient stuff."

She pouts and snags the book from his hands. Hunter chuckles.

"Just make sure you are safe tomorrow," he adds, genuine feeling almost reaching his voice. "The Director definitely wouldn't like it if something happened to you."

"I'd like to believe none of you would like it if something happened to me," Skye points out, eager to not go down that road with Hunter.

"Yes, well, but it's not the same," he says, distractedly, poking at the cushion. It's handmade, Skye swears she will kill Hunter if he ruins it. "You're a great kid and all but the rest of us are not as _personally invested_."

Skye stands up, grabbing Hunter by the arm.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that one before. Time out."

"Hey, hey, that hurts."

She drags him to the door and pushes him outside.

"The book also said you needed to display fraternal respect to be a good samurai," Hunter tells her. "This doesn't _feel_ like fraternal respect."

"Lucky for me you're not my brother," she says, and slides the door shut.

She can hear Hunter grumble outside her door for a moment.

At least that has distracted her from her impending confrontation with Pusher. Lance Hunter has his value, after all. Who knew.

 

 

+

 

 

May is the one who disagrees more loudly with Skye's plan. "We'd be giving Modell exactly what he wants."

"That's the point," Skye says, appearing under the doorframe. "This guy has killed eight people in a week. If he is focused on me maybe he won't kill anyone else in the meanwhile."

"He could kill you instead," May points out.

Skye seems to be ignoring that point. She turns her gaze to Coulson. "We're ready downstairs."

He nods.

"I'll be down in a minute."

Skye leaves. Coulson watches those shoulders, the weight of the world on them. He wishes he could say it's just today, that this is an extraordinary happening, but the truth is those shoulders always look like this of late.

"Are you sure about this?" May asks him, glancing after the place Skye has left just now.

"No," he admits, and it's a bit of a relief to do so. "But it's not really my call."

"You're the Director," May reminds him. "Everything is your call."

"One would think so, uh?" he says, sadly.

 

 

+

 

 

They are in the tactical van with Fitz.

"I'll send the Golden Retrievers with you," he is saying, though he has said this before. "So he won't take you by surprise."

"Cool."

"Though there's a probability that if you – if there's the scans? In the scan room. The – the equipment might interfere with the collection, the data, the _readings_ , actually."

"Okay, I'll take that into account, also."

"Be – uh –"

"Careful? Yeah, thanks."

She turns around, a bit anxious to face Coulson right now.

"We've set a perimeter," he tells her. They have had to look for outside help; SHIELD's manpower, barely a month after legally coming out of the shadows, is still limited. FBI, local police, they all had to pitch in.

"I guess this is it, uh? Time to go."

Coulson looks at her a bit like he is going to be sick, which is strange. He's half sitting half leaning against one of the communication panels. He looks smaller than usual. Skye tries to give him an encouraging smile, like he is the one about to go out there and risk his life. Everything feels slightly off with this picture.

Then she places her sidearm in his hands, leaving her fingers wrapped around it.

Coulson gives her a questioning look.

"It's bad enough he might use my powers against me, I don't want to end up putting a bullet to an innocent guy's head."

He nods slightly, staring at her very intently. His eyes suddenly look very big to her and this suddenly feels like a goodbye. She opens her mouth to say something but she doesn't know what so she gives Coulson a sad smile instead. 

Coulson covers her hand, still holding on to the gun, with his. It's warm as he brushes his thumb along her wrist and Skye doesn't want to leave this moment. Coulson looks like he doesn't want to let her go, either. One of them will have to be the strong one here.

"Let's get this show on the road," Skye says, unconvinced.

She slips her hand from under his, because he still won't let go.

After she walks into the hospital it's made pretty clear that Modell means to go out with a bang and not a whimper. Or various bangs, in this case. She follows the sound of gunshots deeper into the building. She knows Pusher wouldn't hesitate to turn the whole hospital into collateral so she makes sure to order the staff to start evacuating everybody, flashing her newly-minted SHIELD bagde and hoping that's enough to convince them of her authority.

"The scanner's in the third floor," Fitz tells her, even though she pretty much as the outline of the hospital committed to memory.

She finds a guard dead on the way. She kneels by his side, checking he really is beyond help. She closes her eyes for a moment. Maybe if she had gotten here sooner.

"Seems like he shot himself," Skye says into the comms. "Coulson... his gun is gone."

"Skye –"

"Wait, here's the scanner," she says, getting up.

It's empty. But Modell can't be far, she can feel it.

The computer screen in the little office catches her attention. Okay, so she wasn't the greatest in her anatomy class but she's pretty sure there's something wrong there, in Modell's temporal lobe.

"He was actually here for a scan," she says.

"Can you find his chart?" Coulson asks.

"Yep, right here, must have gotten a look at it before he made that guard shoot the technician," she says, noticing the other body in the room.

She's no doctor but the chart in front of her confirms what the bright big area in the middle of the brain scan means.

"Coulson, we were right all along," she says. "He's not just sick and dying. He's really _really_ dying." She realizes what that means: "He has absolutely nothing to lose."

"Skye, get out of there."

Yeah about that...

"I'm sorry," she mutters, hoping Coulson can hear, because as soon as she sees Modell's reflection on the glass separating the room she suspects it's already too late.

" _Skye_!" she gets to hear Coulson's shout through the line.

It's already too late.

 

 

+

 

 

Everything happens very quickly after the comms are cut off.

"Hunter is trying to keep the camera crews away from the site," Bobbi is saying as they walk into the hospital's entrance.

"He should tell them we did manage to limit the number of hostages to _one_ ," Coulson says, bitter.

"I'm sorry, sir," Bobbi says, looking genuinely distressed for him. "At least there hasn't been an earthquake yet."

He can detect the terrible brand of Hunter's sense of humor in Bobbi's words. Personally he believes it would take a better man than Robert Patrick Modell to make Skye lose her grip on her abilities right now.

The hospital's reception has filled with the FBI's swat team, barely being held off by SHIELD's shaky authority on this matter.

Coulson takes his gun out of the holster and gives it to Bobbi.

"Sir?"

"If I don't come back, you and May have your orders."

She nods.

He walks alone into the elevator.

He doesn't like this quiet moment between floors when he can run worst case scenarios in his mind. When it comes to Skye his worst case scenarios have always been particularly bad. He wills himself to not think, to turn his mind into a blank, because at this point of the game it would be counter-productive, it's only going to make him more anxious, less effective. He can have a freakout later. Right now he needs to make sure there's a later.

The retrievers have managed to track where Modell is keeping Skye, a double room at the end of oncology which, blissfully, seemed to be already empty before Pusher decided to use it for his purposes.

He's not sure what he is going to find when he opens that door.

There's a table, and Modell and Skye sitting in front of each other, looking at each other.

"We were waiting for you, Director Coulson. Thanks for joining us."

Skye's gaze is... there's something terribly wrong with her. Her gaze is absent, not Skye-like at all, focused on Modell with anger, yes, but senseless, primal anger. Rage. She hasn't shown any indication she knows Coulson has entered the room. He doesn't know if she can even hear him. There's a particular despair biting at him when he realizes this, that he can be in the same room as Skye and she can't hear his voice.

"The whole building is surrounded, Modell," he says. "FBI, SHIELD, you name it."

"Regular convention."

Coulson eyes the gun Modell has in front of him.

"I don't know what your plan is, but it's not going to work."

"You're right. You don't know what my plan is."

Coulson takes the chair next to him and sits between Modell and Skye. He can barely look at Skye's vacant expression right now. His mind desperatedly for a way to make her snap out of Modell's control. Because that's what is happening here, isn't it? Modell takes the gun into his hands, not threateningly, and proceeds to empty the chamber.

"Bushido is realized in the presence of death," Modell is saying, his sickening didactic tone reaching new heights of delusion. "This means choosing death whenever there's a choice between life and death."

He puts one bullet in the gun and then spins the barrel.

Coulson's bad feeling gets worse.

"When two warriors of equal skill face each other the true victor will be the one who is able to disregard his own life."

He pushes the gun towards Skye, handle first.

Coulson feels the bitterness of adrenaline in his mouth. "Skye, listen to me."

She doesn't. She doesn't look like she is able to.

"Skye," Modell calls, and he doesn't seem to be having that much success either, curiously, because Skye is fixed on the gun in front of her, she's reaching for it already, but Modell is not letting go yet. So he uses his words again, to make sure: "You get one chance. One pull of the trigger. Remember the rules."

"A true warrior is honorable," Skye says between her teeth. She finally gets the gun from under his grasp.

"We don't know what his game is," Coulson tells her. She doesn't even turn in his direction. Nothing. "Don't pull that trigger."

But Skye points the pistol at Modell and pulls the trigger without a moment's hesitation.

For a moment Coulson feels disappointed that there wasn't a bullet in the chamber. He doesn't want Skye to kill anyone. But. At least everything would be over. At least it couldn't get worse – which Coulson has the feeling is where this is heading, to worse.

"I am that warrior who doesn't fear death," Modell says. Coulson sees beads of sweat on his brow. "That's why I will win."

"Skye, just give me the gun," Coulson says, leaning towards her. He can't bear to see her under the complete control of this psychopath. "We can stop this right now."

"Your turn," Modell tells her.

There's this terrible moment when Coulson catches up with what that means.

Skye raises the gun to aim it at her own head.

So this is what it means, to arrive at _worse_ , Coulson thinks.

He gets up from the chair, tries to reach her but – 

It's already too late.

The _No!_ dies on his lips when Skye pulls the trigger. He doesn't even have time to look away. For a moment he thinks something might happen. That Skye might – no, he can't think that. There's a dull clicking sound and relief for a second. Then he realizes they're still in danger, Modell still has them in their clutches.

"You bastard," he says. "Skye, give me the gun."

Coulson guesses he should have seen it coming –Modell being the twisted son of a bitch he is, Skye and him having the luck they have– when Skye turns the gun on him, finally acknowledging his presence in the room.

He takes a step back.

"Skye..."

"No," she mutters, and while she is looking at Coulson he knows the word is not for him, it's for the monster across her on the table, the word is also for herself. He can see her fighting Modell's influence. He can see her fighting with everything she has. And he can't help her. That's probably the worst part.

"It's your turn, Director," Modell says. He's sweating even more now, his strength ebbing away. Maybe if they hold him off long enough, maybe he won't be able to control Skye anymore. "Gotta play by the rules."

His one chance is getting through to Skye. And a stupid part of him believes that, contrary to precedents and logic, he can, if there's anyone who can he is that someone. Everything they have gone through together has to mean something. Because he has to be that someone. Right now he has to be. "Skye listen to me–"

"Come on, pull the trigger, Skye. He wants to throw you in a cell with the rest of the freaks. Lose the key."

Modell's influence might be working because Skye is looking at him as if she is suddenly terrified of him. He knows it's fake, but it still hurts. Coulson feels his eyes sting with something more than frustration. He discovers it's not dying he's afraid of, but of Skye _killing him_. He knows what that'd do to her and if he knows something about human nature he is willing to bet right now there's a bullet in the chamber, and this is Modell's gamble. He's going to die anyway. And he seems to have found the perfect way to ruin more lives before he goes. It's so petty and so unfair and Coulson feels the heat on his cheeks, the hot, quiet tears.

He steps foward for a moment.

"Skye, you know what he is saying is not true," he tells her. "You know I would never do that to you."

Skye already knows this, but maybe if she actually hears it out loud, from him...

"He would," Modell intervenes again. Coulson thinks about just having a go a him but Modell would just make Skye pull the trigger faster. "People like him could never understand people like us."

Skye bites down on her lower lip. She is trying to provoke some sort of distraction in her own body, the pain, to snap herself out of it.

"I'm going to end you, Modell," she says.

"Yes, yes, you will," he replies, sounding excited at the prospect, "but first it's Director Coulson's turn."

She gives Coulson a desperate look. He watches the drops of sweat trailing down her cheek, her neck. She looks like she is about to cry too. The muscles of her wrist tense. The trigger finger about to – 

"Run, Coulson. _Run_."

That's – a good idea, actually. 

He starts calculating how long it would take him to get to the door, how long she has to hold on. He doesn't want to just run, but dead he can't help anyone. He makes the calculations, looking at the door, and that's when he sees it. The lever to start the fire alarm. Modell's voice. FitzSimmons said it, it's all in the voice, that power of suggestion. If he can give Skye a reprieval from that...

He risks it.

He's so relieved about just making it to there and being able to pull the lever without getting shot in the back that he swears he doesn't hear the alarm go off at all.

He does hear Skye shooting Modell, though.

 

 

+

 

 

He's alive but only nominally. The machines are breathing for him. The doctor told her that the tumor was removable to the very last minute, but Modell refused surgery. He must have come to the same conclusion, that it was his illness which gave him his powers. Not only did he use his ability to hurt other people, he was willing to die to keep it. Skye couldn't ever comprehend that. There was a time when she would have probably given anything not to have her "gift". She's only just now accepting it's something she will have to live with. 

She stays by Modell's bed a long while, studying him, trying to figure out why.

Until Coulson finds her and walks into the room as well, standing right next to her.

"The doctor said he's stable," he tells her. "But no one can tell how long he could live, like this."

"I didn't mean to shoot him like that."

Coulson turns to look at her.

"His sickness was too far advanced," he says. "You didn't shoot to kill."

She appreciates the effort but she feels it falls flat. Because that's the other thing. Modell is a monster, a killer with no compassion. He took hold of Skye's will. He tried to make her kill Coulson. _Coulson_. And he almost succeeded. So why does she feel like a monster herself for having pulled the trigger on him?

"You were right," she tells Coulson. "He was just a little man searching for some sort of significance."

"He's not going to find it here," he says, with a decided expression on his face. "Let's not waste more of our time on him."

Skye looks at him from the corner of her eye, then back at Modell. 

She almost lost Coulson.

She almost killed him.

Him.

Of all people. But then again, that must have been the point (not that she can ask that question now). Modell must have really studied all those taped interviews.

She reaches her hand to Coulson's, wrapping it around his fingers, a lifeline. It's silly but she sort of needs to know he's here. She needs to know she hasn't killed him, that this is not a cruel dream Pusher is making her dream. She squeezes Coulson's hand tightly. Just for a moment, that's all she needs. Coulson squeezes back, tenderly.

It's too much. 

She doesn't – deserve it, yeah, in a way, but mainly she doesn't think she can stand it right now, Coulson's kindness, warmth, and his nearness. She has to walk out. And she does.

 

 

+

 

 

He finds her seconds later, hidden away in an empty room.

She's sitting on a gurney, hands gripping the edge tightly. She looks absolutely defeated. He can't say it's as bad as watching her void of expression, her will prisoner of another's, but it's a second close. She doesn't look like she has just survived a dangerous ordeal – she looks like she hasn't.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

Skye glances up in disbelief.

" _What's wrong_? Coulson, I almost killed you."

He approaches her. It's not unlike Skye to feel bad about that. Even if her head knows she's not to blame – to be fair Coulson can only imagine the sort of wreck he'd be if someone had forced him to pull a gun on Skye, but he's sure their situations are different.

"But you didn't," he tries to tell her. "You were stronger. You were always stronger than him."

He lifts one hand to touch her face. Skye stops him, grabbing his wrist.

"He made me think all those things about you. Even if I knew you would never... it felt real, my fear."

"I know," Coulson says.

"You do?"

He doesn't want to say but it felt real to him too, her fear of what he might do to her. The way it broke his heart was real, too.

"Whatever sick game he was playing with you, it's over. You won," he tells Skye instead.

"Then why do I feel like I lost?"

She looks genuinely distraught.

Coulson doesn't think, he just kisses her.

This was coming for a while, he realizes as his mouth first touches hers. This whole week. Falling asleep on Skye's bed and then pretending it was innocent. The scene in the shooting range. The hug. These last few months. Skye learning how to control her abilities, fearing it would change the way people saw her. Well, it changed the way Coulson saw her, and this is it. He slides his tongue into her mouth, holding her face in his hands as tenderly as passion allows him to.

He is afraid he's making a mistake but then Skye starts returning the kiss and if this is a mistake then at least it's one they're making _together_. It's a relief. Her intensity matches his and that's a relief too. He feared this wasn't the moment. Skye draws a long breath between kisses and grabs his shoulders in desperation, pulling him to her with little, hopeless noises. Her tongue moves against his, hungry. Coulson drops his hands from her face to her waist, his thumb slipping under her shirt and finding her bare skin. Skye whimpers, lifting her hips against the touch.

It doesn't occur to Coulson they are in a public place and anyone could come in. He doesn't care. He just cares about being able to keep touching her like this, and draw those gorgeous sounds from inside her. His hand disappears under her clothes completely, caressing every inch of skin he finds blindly. He touches her stomach, the miracle of her beautiful scars, her ribcage. He kneads her breast mercilessly over the fabric of her bra and Skye muffles a _fuck_ against Coulson's collar.

He sucks a line of kisses from below her ear to her shoulder, biting and then worrying the area with wet kisses, only to come back up to her mouth again, catching her lower lip with his teeth. Skye digs her fingertips into his back. Enough to draw his attention.

"Coulson... I need... _something_... now. _Please_."

He pulls his mouth away from her and starts kissing her neck again, dropping his hands to work on the buttons of her jeans. He is only vaguely aware of how fast this is going, how inappropriate and inelegant this is. He is perfectly aware of being in love with Skye.

Her hips move, urging him to pull her pants down. He does, at least down enough so that he can slip his hand between her legs without fear of spraining his wrist. But then Skye wraps her arms around his neck, making the thing almost impossible, and Coulson can feel her wet cheek touching his jaw.

"Skye..."

"Please," she repeats, hot breath against his neck.

And Coulson gets it. Why she is asking this of him. And suddenly it doesn't matter how fast this is going or how inappropriate or inelegant. Only the other thing matters. Almost impossible is not impossible. He runs his hand up her thigh warmly; she's not wet yet so he works his fingers slowly, teasing touches at first. Until he notices Skye's breath – she is still holding on to Coulson for dear life, like any inch of space between them would be painful – becomes more laboured, deeper, touched by pleasure. He finally pushes two fingers into her and Skye sighs his name against his ear.

The angle is all wrong for him to build up a proper rhythm so he focuses on stroking her clit with his thumb to get her there. The feeling of her heartbeat surrounding him is enough to drive him wild, too. She tries to spread her legs further but her jeans are only down to her knees. She groans in discomfort and Coulson manages to pick up the pace in some kind of miracle. It takes him shorter than he thought and soon Skye is clenching around his touch and letting out a soundless cry into the fabric of his shirt.

When it's over he pulls her jeans up again, helps her settle down on the gurney once more. She touches his hair with her fingertips, looking at Coulson like she can barely believe what he just did. Truth be told _he_ can barely believe what he just did, nevermind Skye.

"Maybe something more private for the next part of this?" she says, smiling against his neck.

He feels like he hasn't seen her smile in weeks.

Coulson nods, agreeing. As much as he would be up and ready for it he's not going to have their first time on top of a hospital gurney. Call him romantic, but he's just not. This was something for Skye, to let her know they are both alive.

"Thanks," she says, like she's reading his mind, touching his cheekbone.

"I don't feel good about being thanked for this," he tells her, a bit stilted, because if he says what he really wants to say right now... it would come out in an embarrassing burst.

Skye kisses him. This time is not a good-we're-alive kiss, or a wow-i-almost-shot-you kiss. It doesn't even feel like a thanks-for-getting-me-off-in-a-random-hospital-room kiss. It's just a Skye kiss. It promises good things. Coulson enjoys it, leans into it, follows her mouth as she pulls away with a smile and a hand on his shoulder to slow him down.

"I'm glad I didn't kill you," she says. Then she blushes. "I'm sorry, I mean – you know what I mean."

"Yes."

"I love you so much," she tells him.

He draws his thumb along the line of her mouth, unable to quite believe those words, wanting to trap and treasure them forever.

"Please, Skye," he tells her, gesturing towards the depressing room. "Let me take you away from here."

She nods in agreement, looking around as well. "I don't want to waste any more time."

"Me neither," Coulson says. "I love you."

"I thought you were never going to say it back," Skye complains.

"It's been ten seconds."

"People like to have these things said back _immediately_." She fixes him a look full of fondness. "You're so much work."

"Then you'd better get started," Coulson advices.

Skye nods again.

This time he's the one who holds her hand first, and she's the one who squeezes back, neither wasting another second.


End file.
